Sorry I haven’t been keeping up with my weekly updates. I’m discouraged by this website lately. I don’t get as much traffic or comments as I used to, and really, it’s my own fault. My initial impetus with this website (in its earlier incarnation as bacteriaburger.com) was just to have a place to post my stories and talk a little bit about them. I used to post a new story every month! Now I go months without posting new stories, and that has to be at least partially the reason why traffic has dropped. I’m going to start posting more frequently, a story every other month if I can. So there ya go.

This week I finished a story for an anthology that’s going to be published by Bruno Gmunder. The story is called “Four Days in the Exurbs” and it wound up being a weird fun-house mirror version of the novella I recently completed, “691 Suburban Dr.” What I’ve noticed lately is that my stories are getting longer. It used to be a real accomplishment for me to write something over 3,000 words. This particular assignment was for a 4,500 word story. My first draft ended up being over 6,000 words, which is kind of insane for me, but it just happened naturally and I never felt like I was padding things out.

I’ve been working on my next (or first) novel, details of which I don’t want to get into yet, but it’s been chugging along so that’s nice.

I want to write about my summer in a positive way and not feel like I’m bragging. Intention stated! Let it be known that I had a lot of great times this summer, and a lot of down times, too. I’d rather reminisce about the good stuff.

Things I did this summer:

- Banged on a drum for the first time and found a love for it that hasn’t abated; attended weekly drum circles in Pittsburgh.

- Danced my ass off in New York City while wearing a pink tuxedo.

- Attended the Lambda Literary Awards where one dude from Queer Eye for the Straight Guy told me he liked my jacket.

- Found the Radical Faeries and balled my eyes out in my first heart circle.

- Scrubbed pots at a hippie commune while dancing to Madonna.

- Went to the drive-in and initially got blown away by ‘Magic Mike’ until the romance subplot took over and totally blew.

- Spent a couple days languishing poolside, writing, socializing.

- Saw Sharon Jones and the Dap Kings at an outdoor concert on a day when I was feeling lousy and left feeling like the weight of the world had been lifted off my shoulders.

Lately I feel like my apartment is closing in on me. It doesn’t help that I live in an attic and it’s hot as BAWLZ outside. I’m chipping away at ’691 Suburban Dr’ but the fact of the matter is that it has become a chore in recent days. I think my current goal is to find a way to make writing fun again, and failing that, continue to party and socialize and worry about completing projects later. It’s like the last thing I want to do lately is sit somewhere in an enclosed space and press my head into my stupid computer until it overheats.

…even though I LOST [sad horn sound]. But in all honesty, the real disappointment for me would’ve been if I hadn’t been a finalist. I was counting on that shit! I just wanted a chance to go to the awards and see how the other half lives. So what can I say? I looked like a million bucks (adjusted for inflation, of course, because my clothes were from the 1970s). I hugged Armistead Maupin. One of the dudes who used to be on Queer Eye for the Straight Guy said he liked my jacket. I told Olympia Dukakis that I always get her mixed up with Shirley Maclaine (no I didn’t, but she was there). I schmoozed Susie Bright and made connections with some interesting writer/publisher folks. And afterward I tore shit UP on the dance floor with fellow Rebel Satori author Emanuel Xavier and (London…Paris…) Dwayne Milan. </namedropping> Had a blast and couldn’t have asked for much more. Except for maybe the award. But it’s good to have something to work toward.

Hey! I feel like I need to post something on here given how dormant this blog has been in recent weeks/months. I haven’t been writing much lately, though I did bust out an entire story in like four hours the other day – a highly erotic story, no less. This was comforting to me because I’d been feeling like I’d outgrown erotica or something – the two major projects I have in the works at the moment are definitely about sex but definitely take some detours from straight-up porn writing. But I just got the urge the other day to turn myself on, so I went with it and it was so fun. I need to revise it and then I might submit it to Handjobs and then of course I’ll post it on this website. Mainly I’ve been taking the time to see the world and meet new people, which seems like a good thing to do for the spring and summer. In the fall I plan to start serious work on a major project which I am so, so excited about. Thanks for reading!

Death Race 2000: Pretty goddamn brilliant. Proto-Starship Troopers-style sci-fi exploitation with a nice satirical bite. There’s a lot of Roger Corman productions on Netflix these days and I’m eating em up. The Big Bird Cage was another good one, also Switchblade Sisters. I love exploitation’s total embrace of excess and feeling: it’s horror, sex and violence congealed and lobbed right at your face. Which doesn’t always make it palatable, but at least it doesn’t pull any punches.

Theater movies

Gone: I saw this with a friend who has a thing for Amanda Seyfried. Afterwards I totally got it, because Seyfried turned in a great peformance. She was crafty, intense and unreadable. The movie kept me entertained. Low expectations are always a good thing. I loved Amanda Seyfried’s blue car.

We Need to Talk About Kevin: What a weird-ass movie. In fact it was best in its most weird and abstract moments. The problem was it was so fucking looong. I loved the fact that it was a movie about a school massacre where we won’t supposed to give a shit about the victims, it was all about the mom. It was a maternal horror story, but the horror stuff, especially toward the end, wasn’t punchy enough, it dragged and groaned. The brutal office party scene sticks with me, as does the opening sequence.

Books

The Hunger Games: Clearly readable, an achievement that one shouldn’t gloss over (even though I just did). I’m sure a million amateur pundits have weighed in on this already, but it’s truly a testament to how far we’ve come as a nation that an exploitation story about teenagers killing one another (and not having sex, of course) is one of our most popular stories among kids and adults. The romance was weak, as was the fact that they changed the rules halfway in. On the fence as to whether I’ll read the next two.

Champion, Photographs by Walter Kundzicz: I haven’t said much about my trip to New York a couple weekends ago, but geez, it was kinda brilliant and I kinda kicked some ass. I sold copies of Backwoods at the Rainbow Book Fair, and my table happened to face that of photographer Reed Massengill. After I got over my jealousy of how many books he was selling we had an enjoyable time in one another’s company. He has several books of photography and they’re pretty brilliant, erotic and human. But before the day was over I traded him one of my collages for this book of photographs, which he edited. It’s fantastic not only for the brilliant Kodachrome colors and hot dudes. Kundzicz has a sense of humor and poses his dopey muscle men with all kinds of esoteric fetish objects: football helmets, pitchforks, dish racks, eye patches, binoculars, telephones…the list is endless. It’s absolutely hilarious and unique.

Shirtlifter by Steve MacIsaac: I picked up several issues of this comic when I was Chicago some time ago and I’ve been meaning to write about it since. Anybody who enjoys stories of modern gay white men (re: Weekend) would do themselves a service to check these comics out, which are unflinchingly honest and crisply told. Lots of sex, though whether it’s erotic or not is sort of up for grabs. I’m more a fan of the strong, melancholy narration.

It’d be nice if I wrote every day, but it’s also unrealistic if I want to maintain my full-time job and semblance of a social life. So I’ll skip a day or two, usually during the work week. If I skip writing for two days in a row I start to feel it, so I usually don’t skip three.

I was shooting for 1,000 words a day and actually meeting it, for a while. But I lost my mojo a bit over the past couple weeks, so I brought it down to 500 words a day. Done. Better to work less than not work at all.

When I skip a day I try to make up for it the next day, so that I’m still writing my requisite number of words per day. If I’m revising something I increase my per-day word count because revising isn’t as taxing on my attention as composing. I’ve been alternating frequently between composing new stuff and revising old stuff, and it’s good to know that I can switch easily between those two modes. Soon enough I’m going to be delving into revising a 30k word project, so that’ll be taking up most of my time for a good month or so (that’s ’691 Suburban Dr’).

Here’s an excerpt from a funny story I finished a couple weeks ago. I think the best ideas can be summed up in a sentence, and the one I came up with when I thought of the idea for this story was “cum as protein supplement for college gym bunnies.”

The other day Johnny came in to gym. I was at the desk, being a gym monitor, which is what I do for work – putting weights away, cleaning off machines.

Johnny was there to work out. He’s my bro. We have a couple classes together and he lifts as much as I do so we’re always hanging out.

I said something to him about his shoulders because they were looking good.

“I’m not juicing if that’s what you’re getting at,” he said.

“No, no,” I said. His shoulders looked uber pumped but Johnny didn’t seem like the steroid type. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. Biff is one of our bros and he shoots up. It looks good on him, it’s just not for me. “I just meant, are you doing something different?” Johnny gave me this look.

“Not exactly. I’m doing supplements, but a different kind.”

“Ah okay,” I said. “Is it from GNC?” Johnny looked around. He leaned toward me and talked low over the clanking weights, whirring treadmills and grunts form the guys doing dead lifts on the other side of the room.

“I’m eating my jizz,” he said.

“What?” Johnny just laughed.

“I read about it on the internet. It’s protein, you know? And testosterone. I put it in with my shake.”

“Dude,” I said. Then I had to laugh. “That’s sick.”

“It’s natural. It’s, like, putting back in your body the helpful stuff that goes out when you cum.”

Johnny was still working out when my shift was done so I did some squats and bicep curls with him, then we hit the shower.

“So if it’s supposed to be so good for you, how come my girlfriend doesn’t get all pumped and jacked and shit when she swallows my load?” Johnny shrugged. He ran his soapy hands over his smooth and bulging torso.

“I’m not saying it’s a miracle. It’s just an extra boost. Plus, be real – how often does she really swallow your load, anyway?”

When I got home I tried to find the article on the internet that Johnny was talking about but I couldn’t. Still, it seemed like it sort of made sense. And actually, if I’m being honest about things, the idea of it sorta turned me on. I figured it couldn’t hurt, and Johnny was doing it anyway.

Thanks for voting in my poll! I look forward to writing about the bachelor party that everyone tries to forget. Maybe I need to watch ‘The Hangover’ to prepare – Bradley Cooper’s douche-tastic personality may take a concealed starring role in the finished story.

I’m working on thangs. Finished ’691 Suburban Dr’ a couple of weeks ago and I’m letting it sit for a few weeks more before I start revisions. It’s novella length and, I might as well warn you, features copious bisexuality. I don’t know how that’s going to go over with my regular readers, but what are you gonna do. I’ll probably talk more about it in the future, but it seems borne of a need to explore female characters. I like women! I’m tired of writing about dudes all the time, even if I do find them oh-so-fuckable.

While I’m waiting for the rough draft of ’691′ to cool I’m working on another project, this one a story collection tentatively titled ‘College Town USA.’ I’ve written notebooks full of stuff for it ever since I finished ‘Backwoods’ and now I’m getting down to revisions. It’s erotica, but a bit more experimental with regard to style and narrative. Not sure what I want to do with it yet, but it’s a nice thing to have on the back burner.

So yeah, I’m on a writing bender and it feels so good. Gonna ride this wave for as long as it lasts.

I exercised my constitutional right to disable my Facebook profile yesterday. I’m on Twitter so if you want to follow me feel free to do so: @nattysoltesz. Though I almost never post on Twitter because I don’t understand its purpose, beyond attempts to get the attention of people more famous than me. Am I missing something?

I’m feeling focused lately, which is one of the reasons I’m trying to minimize my distractions. Man, I read this great book yesterday – and I mean I really did read the entire thing in one day. Dream School by Blake Nelson. I got it from the library and I was holding off on reading it, because I knew it was going to be good. Finally I picked it up yesterday morning and I read it all day. It was so wonderful. I’d do something, take a break, then come right back into that world because I never wanted to leave.

Anyway it was inspiring because it’s about this college girl discovering that she’s a writer. And the voice is just effortless, and Nelson doesn’t waste any time on events, he just plows right through this girl’s life and goes on to the next thing that happens, then the next thing, then the next thing… It’s rare for me to get inspired by a book I admire, usually I just feel crippled by greatness that I’ll never live up to – bad books are typically more motivating.

I’m inspired to finish this novel I’m working on which – fuck it – is a sequel to 428 College St, and it’s called 691 Suburban Dr. I’m also working on a new ebook called Daddy/Boy, which is going to be a collection of my intergenerational/incest stories, most of which have already been published but I’m going to include at least one new story, plus an introduction, plus a section of annotations and notes on the stories which is painfully self-indulgent but fuck it, it’s my ebook and I can do whatevah I want.

So those are my two main projects at the moment. Daddy/Boy should be out around the beginning of February. ‘Suburban Dr,’ who knows, but I know I’ve found myself drawing out the process of writing it because I’m so happy to be working consistently on something, but I think it’s to the detriment of the book. So I don’t want to say too much about this but I am determined to tell the story a little faster and not worry about length so much and just tell the damn story and get it out. So hopefully that’s good news.

What else? By the way I should be leaving for work right now but I’m putting it off, because it’s my Monday (I work Tues-Sat) and I’m not looking forward to it. Basically, I’m trying to become a full-time writer. I haven’t mentioned it extensively on this blog, but Str8 but Curious has been successful beyond my wildest dreams, and it’s made me believe that I could actually support myself solely through writing, and that is an incredibly exciting prospect to me. So I’m optimistic about the future, and also pretty damn scared because there is so much to consider.

I dreamt last night that President Obama and I were in my backyard and he smoked me up with this incredible weed, and I was so stoked because I’d get to tell my grandchildren that President Obama got me high. Plus he was so cool and chill and we were just hanging out. I was disappointed when I woke up. He’s totally getting my vote this year.

All writing on this site is copyright 2006-2014 by Natty Soltesz and may not be reprinted or retransmitted in whole or in part without the expressed written consent of the publisher. All stories on this site are fiction, and all characters in this fiction are 18 years of age or older. All characters are invented, any use of real names is coincidental. The content of this site is not intended for readers under 18 years of age.Powered by WordPress. Zindi theme, customized by yours truly.